


Orphan

by QuintessentialCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessentialCat/pseuds/QuintessentialCat
Summary: "Hamilton" musical + Harry Potter = This





	1. Harry and Hermione

**Author's Note:**

> I own neither work, though I wish I was that brilliant. This was a fun thought after listening to Hamilton for the 100th time. I regret nothing and promise nothing.

Everyone in the Wizarding World knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione Granger discovered his name mentioned in at least three of her textbooks and other books she bought upon discovering the truth of her magical abilities. What really amazed her was the lack of mention of the boy after that? Where did he go off to after his parents were murdered? 

Hermione only recently found luck the modest house of two wealthy dentists. They took her in upon finding that she was orphaned and brilliant. So Hermione felt a special tiding towards the orphaned and famous boy. Likely, he would be treated for his fame, and most would forget about the tragedy that befall him. Similar, Hermione imagined, to how adults treated her brilliance. They ignored why she had to be so brilliant.

See, Hermione, muggle-born, was fatherless by five, motherless by seven. The former abandoning the pair of females; the latter dying of a curable disease that almost took Hermione as well. The next five years consisted of her having to be smart to survive. To survive the streets, then the foster system, then finally navigating the strange powers she discovered in herself. The young girl taught herself to read while incompetent teachers attempted to hold her back for social behavior issues. She couldn’t help it; she did not care for children.

She was right, though, as she often was, in believing Harry Potter may someone who might understand her. Harry, besides being dumped in a forgotten home with family who hated him, suffered his own set of tragedies which provided him with skills above his age group. While his intelligence fell below that of the young Granger’s, he obtained survival, fighting, and planning skills in the plenty. 

Starved and abused, Harry continued in the Dursley household only for a lack of other options. However, when he was ten, his Aunt Petunia killed herself. She supposedly left a note, but Harry was never allowed to see it. He might have tried to sneak a look, but immediately following her burial, his Uncle Vernon threw him out of the house.

“YOU! YOU KILLED HER! YOU WILL NEVER PLAGUE THIS HOUSE AGAIN! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT! IF YOU HAD NEVER COME, SHE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!” The large, pink-faced man bellowed from the doorway as Harry scrambled out of the house. He had no belongings. As the only family he ever knew slammed his front door, Harry stood there uncertain of what to do. Like Hermione found a reprieve in the kindly dentist, Harry found his in the name of Bathilda Bagshot. 

While all the neighbors on Privet Drive stared at the abandoned boy, only one came out to greet him. 

“Well, Harry, I believe it’s time for you to come back to the Wizarding World,” Mrs. Figg said, waving him to follow her. Despite believing her to be absolutely batty, Harry followed her, not having many other options. When she had explained everything, Harry no longer took her to be insane. 

“I suspect, boy, you could live wherever you would want. There would be plenty of families who would be willing to take you in. I would be more than willing to allow you to live here as well, although I am unsure if I could protect you from Vernon’s wrath were he to become angry with you so close,” Mrs. Figg offered kindly. Harry nibbled on delicious biscuits and sipped at extraordinary tea. The tastefulness of the treats alone gave Harry enough to believe that his life had not always been as it had seen. 

“I think you are right. It would be dangerous for both of us for me to stay here. I don’t want to be a charity case either. The Dursleys have treated me as a charity case my whole life. I refuse to live in another location like it. Is there anyone who I could work for and earn my own keep?” Harry asked, more mature than a ten-year-old ought to be. Mrs. Figg studied him. She knew she ought to tell someone from the ministry about the child being removed from his family’s house, but technically she was only placed there to assure that no wizards came looking for Harry. So she felt if the family refused to care for the child, Harry had the right to decide what he wanted to do next. Mrs. Figg stood up and went over to the fireplace. She grabbed a container off the mantel. She held it out to him. 

“Take this, step into the fireplace, drop it, saying very clearly ‘Godric’s Hollow, Number 11,’” she ordered. Harry did as she asked, taking extra care about the word even as he wanted to cough, and looked up to find himself in someone else’s home. An older witch came scurrying down, much more sprightly then he thought possible with how old she appeared. 

“Well, who are you? Are you lost?” She asked, flitting around him never stopping for a moment. Then, Mrs. Figg pushed him forward as she came through the fireplace as well. “Arabella!” The witch then pushed Harry out of the way and embraced Mrs. Figg with a large hug. 

“Bathilda,” Mrs. Figg returned the hug with significantly less enthusiasm. 

“Well, what brings you here,” Bathilda said, pulling out a stick and waving it around so tea cups came flying through the air. Bathilda ushered Mrs. Figg into a chair as she sat in one herself, appearing to completely forgotten the mystery boy. One tea cup and saucer settled in front of Mrs. Figg and the other in front of Bathilda. Even as she sat, Harry noticed, the older witch still appeared to be moving. Mrs. Figg nodded to Harry to take a sit next to her.

“I’m afraid Harry, here, has been abandoned by his muggle family members and now must find new living conditions,” Mrs. Figg began as Bathilda finally paid Harry attention. Now that her eyes were on him again, she studied him with the ferociousness of a predator. 

“Well, that is unfortunate. What can I possibly do to help? I am in no condition to raise a child?” Bathilda sniffed. 

“You are in perfect condition, but I’m not asking you raise him. I’m asking you to house and employee him. I know how you hate every day chores, so I believe you could use a hand around the house. Harry has skills in cleaning and cooking. He can take care of the house as well as be your aid in whatever your latest research is. You have an extra room, I understand?” Mrs. Figgs simply waited for Bathilda to nod hesitantly before going on. “You can provide him with a place to stay and home school him. If you do not want to do the latter, then you can send him to the muggle school. He has been going to one of them for years and appears okay for it.” 

“I do not like children. I would have had one of my own if I had wanted to be forced into raising one, Arabella,” Bathilda said darkly. Harry frowned. He knew he was only ten, but he was surely better than his peers. He had essentially been raising himself for years now. 

“Well, lucky for you, Harry is a unique child. I doubt he will take any kind of raising what-so-ever. His family was quite abusive and the interactions between them largely consisted of them treating him like a house elf. He is above his age, Bathilda,” when Bathilda just stared tenaciously back, Mrs. Figgs continued, “if it is a problem, you can send him back to me and I will find somewhere else to go. He is going to resent anyone who treats him like a child. You are the best person for him.” Bathilda turned her stare on Harry once again. The older witch frowned heavily at him, but he didn’t flinch. He stared right back into the grey eyes. 

“Fine. And I will homeschool you. Going to muggle school isn’t going to help you at Hogwarts.” 

So began the life of Harry Potter with Bathilda- whose last name he later learned to be Bagshot. At first, Bathilda appeared to snap and complain about everything about Harry. His untidiness, his food wasn’t as good as it should be, he took too long going to the store. Eventually, however, Harry gained her trust.

The regular schedule for their day would be Harry getting up early to make breakfast. Bathilda gave up on Harry’s appearance, but she taught him tricks and tips for making food with wands (“for when he was of age”). He couldn’t practice any of it, but he made notes in a notebook he kept nearby at all times. Both because it was necessary for him to keep up with what she wanted him to research for her latest project, and because he wanted to gain her approval. Her occasional smile when he did something correct refilled Harry’s motivation to try his hardest.

After breakfast, Bathilda would spend the morning tutoring Harry on the magical world and basic skills it would assume he would have entering Hogwarts. They practiced mathematics and then would talk about magical creatures commonly encounter. Bathilda encouraged critical analysis and his reading skills then would describe the enforcement of laws and the Ministry of Magic. Harry would review research methods and magical laws then ask Bathilda about Quidditch and other information he read from the Daily Prophet which arrived daily. 

After lunch, which Harry made, they would focus on Bathilda’s research, digging into books or Harry searched through her notes. Sometimes they made visits to locations or people. They even took trips out of country to visit exotic locations or libraries abroad. Harry saw more things in the world in his first week with Bathilda then in his whole life with the Dursley’s. 

Dinner and the evening following would be when Harry would clean up whatever mess they made or run errands to the store for Bathilda. Occasionally, Bathilda joined him and introduced to the various individuals in Godric’s Hollow. They introduced him as James, Bathilda’s muggle-born ward. They glammored his scar and cut his hair to hide it when possible. If some residents became suspicious, they never said anything. Sometimes, if nothing needed to be cleaned, Harry spent the evening just enjoying himself. 

Several weeks in, around when Bathilda stopped nit-picking everything Harry did, Bathilda sat down and told Harry about the war currently taking place. The year before Harry came to join her, Lord Voldemort had returned. It was said he broke into Hogwarts where Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, had been hiding an extraordinary object that he discovered Voldemort was searching for. Supposedly the object was captured back from Voldemort and destroyed, but not until Voldemort had already managed to use it to return. Since then, Voldemort had Death Eaters, his followers, everywhere. Some were planted in the Ministry of Magic to do his bidding. The only place that still remained free of his followers was Hogwarts. 

After Bathilda described all of this to Harry and what kind of atrocities Voldemort committed, a group arrived at their home to cast a number of protection spells. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix. Harry hid while they were there, because they were trying to prevent anyone from suspecting Harry’s location. However, he stood near doorways and listened as they talked about the war effort. He was transfixed. He wanted to be able to help fight the prejudice and horror Bathilda described to him. 

After they came, Harry began asking about his parents, and Bathilda took him to the cemetery where they lay. He cried, and Bathilda put her arm around him, saying nothing. Later, she told him a lot. Bathilda told him stories of his parents and how they were brave beyond doubt. 

Meanwhile, Harry learned to live with the witch that never stopped. Bathilda was an eccentric woman. She hated children and vocalized it whenever a child came in view. Bathilda talked to herself and often would stop in the middle of a sentence to start another thought. Harry learned to follow her erratic thoughts and learned to love her, although affection never breached their conversations. 

The year before he turned eleven and started his first-year at Hogwarts went by in a blink. When Harry gained his letter; they celebrated with cake, one Bathilda made. Bathilda sent him to Diagon Alley alone, because they needed to keep up pretenses. He walked from store to store, following the directions Bathilda gave him. She told him to have everything sent to Mrs. Figg’s house, so that’s what he did, after finding out he was more then wealthy enough to pay Bathilda for staying there. Not that he minded working for her, and he decided to not offer, because he wanted to do what he could for the woman who took him in. 

In Diagon Alley, he ordered his books and other materials. Robes he only need to order some for school. Bathilda had gotten him a whole new wardrobe when he arrived at her house with no belongings. He, in return, cleaned her extremely dirty attic. Robes took moments, as the witch updated his measurements and sent him on his way. 

Harry waited for his wand for last, excited the most for it. He knew, in the next couple weeks, he would be able to perform magic without repercussions. He entered Ollivander’s and found a girl and two nervous muggle-dressed individuals sitting waiting as the girl tried wands. Harry watched with interest as Mr. Ollivander gave her wand after wand, grinning with the challenge. The girl seemed determined to make one work. Finally, one shot out with a rainbow of color, raising the girl temporarily off the ground and setting her gently back. 

“That is your wand.” The girl turned swiftly to show the two adults, presumably her parents, sitting behind her, but she caught sight of Harry and stopped. 

“Oh! How do you do?” the girl’s brown hair sprayed out in all directions, bouncing as she held her hand out to him. 

“Are you starting Hogwarts this year, too?” Harry asked, taking her hand.

“Yes! Hermione Granger,” she introduced herself. Harry hesitated.

“Harry Potter,” Harry told her. Her eyes widened only slightly. 

“Are you really? How wonderful? Are you here alone?” Hermione asked glancing around. Harry immediately felt uncomfortable, and Hermione appeared to notice. “Sorry. I only wondered. None of the books I read about you in mentioned what happened to you. I was merely curious to know if you were living with wizards this whole time.” Harry frowned, but answered.

“Yes, I was with my aunt and uncle. What about you?” Harry asked, wondering how he could get out of this conversation.

“Muggle-born. Found out recently about the fact I was a witch. If you are here alone, you can join me and my parents,” she nodded to the man and woman, “Well, my adopted parents.” She added, taking in Harry’s interest. 

“I’d love to, but all I really need still is to get my wand then I’ll be done,” Harry said. 

“Well, how about we wait for you, and we can go out to lunch. I don’t know anyone yet, I would love to get to know someone,” Hermione smiled and Harry decided to say yes. Despite her immediate friendliness, Harry didn’t believe she wanted to be his friend because of who he was.

“I suppose if you don’t mind, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Harry looked to her parents who nodded consensus. Hermione watched with excited and gave cheers when Harry finally found his wand. When Ollivander explained its uniqueness, Hermione “oohed” and added a commentary of “how interesting” to the background. Harry had to admit, she said out loud what she thought. 

When they went to lunch, Hermione took over the majority of talking. She was an intelligent, mature girl who engaged Harry with her knowledge. She bordered on know-it-all, but when Harry provided her with some of the information he gained from Bathilda, she proved a willing listener. She asked questions of Harry, and Harry asked questions of her. At the end of the lunch, Hermione gave him a hug, much to his surprise. 

“Harry, would you mind if I get your address and write to you? Or I can call you?” She looked down at Hedwig’s cage in Harry’s hand. “Perhaps you can use your owl. I suppose you just bought her.” He looked around something to write with.

“I don’t have anything to get your address. I don’t know anyone either,” Hermione’s mother, presumably, handed her a small piece of paper and pen. Hermione scribbled down on it, handing it immediately to him.

“I am sorry for your loss, Harry,” Hermione said as he looked at the address. Harry looked up surprised. 

“Oh. Thanks. I’m sorry for yours,” He replied back.

“I look forward to your letter,” Hermione said. 

In his first letter, he only wrote a few lines. Hermione’s reply made up for it. She admitted why she was so interested in getting to know him. She explained about her father, her mother, and her subsequent life in various places. Harry wrote back and admitted of the abuse he saw in the Dursley household. He admitted to living in the Wizarding World and explained that for now he couldn’t say who because he needed to be kept safe. They wrote back and forth until the first of September. Harry waited for Hermione at the front of the train station, Bathilda having stayed at home to avoid suspicion (although, Harry admittedly thought she sounded quite depressed at having to see him go). Hermione and the Grangers greeted him enthusiastically, all four of them traveling through the pillar the Platform of 9 ¾ as Bathilda told Harry to. 

They took a seat and squirmed in excitement to begin a new journey.


	2. Draco Malfoy, Sir

Harry and Hermione sat near the door to their carriage, listening to all the words of the passing witches and wizards they soon would be learning alongside. They both stayed silent, stretching for information and intrigue.

“Did you see what Lee Jordan has?” One witch said to her friend.

“I haven’t ever heard of the Defense teacher they brought on,” another one said. 

“Have you heard? Draco Malfoy is on the train!” said a wizard to his friend.

“That’s the one that Snape raised, right?” his friend replied, stopping near Harry and Hermione’s door. 

“Yeah! He’s supposed to have an in with the Order. They supposedly teach him all sorts of magic early on. He’s supposed to be at a third year level at least with his magic.” The first replied. Some other students came up on them and they were forced to leave.

“Do you think they meant the Order of the Phoenix?” Harry asked Hermione.

“I suppose they would have to.” Hermione replied back. No one ever came to join them, so that’s how they spent most of their ride. They would talk a little, listen a little, generally keep on in a comfortable way that only adults tended to conquer silence. Yet, the whole train ride they heard wonders and rumors about the famous Draco Malfoy. Harry had snuck under the radar it appeared, and the pair were happy for it. Yet, they were intrigued by the thought of this boy already so involved in the war effort. Hermione had easily shown interest in joining the fight right alongside Harry. 

The ride was as extraordinary for the pair as it was for all first-years seeing Hogwarts for the first time. They shook alongside each other, wondering where they would be placed. Hermione refused the Sorting Hat’s suggestion of Ravenclaw and was sorted into Gryffindor, since she knew that’s where Harry belonged. Harry refused the Sorting Hat’s suggestion of Slytherin and found himself in Gryffindor instead, surprised but happy to be with his friend. They shared the secret almost-sortings in each other’s ears before taking part in the first feast they would have at Hogwarts.

The pair secluded themselves without meaning, ostracizing those around them with their whispering and know-it-all attitudes. The pair together dominated classes and acted years above their age outside. Harry quickly found himself the youngest player on the Gryffindor team in a century while Hermione dominated all their classes, Harry trailing behind imperceptibly due to her aid and his dedication. Their youth appeared to speed by with the same inertia at which they managed to obtain knowledge and skills. By their second year, they discovered secrets of the castle only Voldemort thought he knew, including one Basilisk which almost killed them both when they accidentally came upon it’s lair. 

That, they laughed in their explanation to the Headmaster, was a funny story. It all started with them discovering Harry’s Parseltongue aptitude. From there they found out about Slytherin and figured what other way would Slytherin hide secret pathways so they tried it everywhere. Around that same time, they became increasingly interested in the ghosts of Hogwarts. One thing led to another. They discovered the Chamber of Secrets. Luckily, Fawks came with the hat when he did, because they were walking blind (Hermione recognized the creature on sight). Anyways, Hermione pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the hat while Harry distracted the snake. They took it out and gleefully went to inform the Headmaster of the beast in his school. They further went on to send many letters to the ministry demanding Hagrid be given a wand again. 

The next year found Hagrid as a teacher of magical creatures (much to Harry and Hermione’s deep questioning), and even more learning on the part of Harry and Hermione. Intent on discovering all they could about Harry’s past and how the tragedies could have been allowed to happen. It went so far as they discovered Harry’s godfather died in an Azkaban prison outbreak. Several captured death eaters testified to killing him on the Dark Lord’s orders, because he never gave away the Potters. They, too, discovered with a lot of letters and digging, that Peter Pettigrew was likely alive and the culprit. All the while, they were mastering all their classes and obtaining outside lessons with most of their professors. They also were given permission to use time turners to make all the classes they signed up for, not wanting to give up the chance to learn any subject. This, they abused to the fullest extent. Together they found the workload only slightly more challenging before. 

The summers consisted of Hermione spending the majority of the summer with Harry and Bathilda. Harry admitted to his secret location soon into their first year. Hermione’s adopted parents, while loving her, felt confident that the girl could make her own decisions, so they made no noise at only seeing her a month of the year (Christmas was also spent with Bathilda). Bathilda immediately adored the younger witch, finding her wit and intelligence an easy addition to the household. The summers matched the year Harry spent with her before minus the morning tutoring sessions. Harry and Hermione would cook and clean as a show of appreciation for Bathilda housing them, and Bathilda would include them in her afternoon research. Mornings, now, were spent with Harry and Hermione traveling and gaining ever the more knowledge. 

By the end of the third year, they were frustrated with their classes, feeling that they were below their capabilities. They requested to be moved into more advanced classes. The headmaster said they must be approved by each professor. So they went to each one, starting with the four heads of houses. The last of the four, Severus Snape, proved the issue. He had never liked Harry and Hermione much, openly insulting them and deducting points whenever he could. The pair easily earned them back in other classes, but they often sassed the professor which he readily gave them detentions for. Harry and Hermione found the detentions cute, as they found themselves doing tasks that they felt they ought to have practice with anyways- such as prepping potions ingredients or cleaning spilled potions (a task in itself because of the challenges of cleaning magic with muggle cleaning). When they approached Snape to ask him to entrance to his advanced classes, he laughed in their faces.

“You think you two are prepared for OWLs level classes? I have first years more prepared then you,” Severus snarled. 

“You know that’s not true, Professor. We are more then able, even if you’d like us to be as stupid as you,” Hermione snapped back. 

“What is your issue? Jealous of our abilities? Sad you are still not as talented as us?” Harry demand, losing his temper.

“Jealous of what, Potter? Pig-headness and an ego that doesn’t even fit inside Hogwarts? I think not. You’re just like your father- you think you are a big fish in a small pond. When really, you are just a tiny fish who is too stupid to realize their own limitations. You are two children. That is all. Without the other one, each of you would fail. You cheat and lie using one another. I see through it though. I see the real lack of talent within both of you.” Snape might have tried to say more, but at that point, two fists met his face. There was only a few days left in the term, but both students were sent to their respective homes and guardians (well, Harry arrived at Privet Drive then used Mrs. Figg’s fireplace to travel to Bathilda’s). They both received letters stating that all the professors decided their actions showed their maturity was not up to another class level. The pair was to stay in their grade.  
Hermione and Harry took this as a challenge. They had long planned to join the war effort as soon as they were allowed, but since they were banned from learning at their own pace so they might join it sooner, the only other viable option to them was to help the effort on their own. So that summer saw reconnaissance missions to better educate Harry and Hermione on who they were facing. 

By the time they entered their fourth year, the Ministry of Magic had fallen to the Voldemort, and it was well known the Order of the Phoenix was losing members every day. They wanted desperately to join the fight, but the headmaster was still refusing anyone below sixth year. Even then, sixth years had to truly excel and show they knew what they were doing to join the fight. 

No matter what they did, the professors and headmaster refused their offers. They knew of only one other person who was rumored to be part of the fight of their age: Draco Malfoy. He took a month of classes with his peers, Hermione and Harry included, before the Slytherin was moved to third year classes. He now sat with the sixth years. Hermione and Harry never felt it important to pay him, or the rumors surrounding him, much attention. Until now. 

Near the end of that fourth year, with the war raging on, battles lost to the Death Eaters arising in the news every day, Harry and Hermione waited outside the Great Hall. Being in Slytherin and only being in a total of six class periods with them, Draco Malfoy was known only by sight and gossip. So when they jumped up to stop the boy on his way out, he appeared shocked at the attack. 

“Pardon me, Draco Malfoy, isn’t it?” Hermione said first.

“That depends who’s asking?” Draco stood slightly above both of his peers, despite being the same age, giving him an appearance of being older. 

“Oh, well, sure, I’m Harry Potter, and this is my friend, Hermione Granger. We’ve been hoping to catch you alone,” Harry said. Draco glanced from one to the other, furrowing his brow in a frown. 

“And why would two Gryffindors want me alone?” Draco’s hand was on his wand before they knew it. 

“We’ve heard your name all around Hogwarts. We were seeking an accelerated course of study when we got out of sorts with a professor-“ Hermione started.

“We may have punch him-“ Harry snickered.

“It’s a blur, really. He is your Godfather…?” Hermione said quickly, apologetically, beseeching the upper classmen. 

“You punched Snape?” Draco asked incredulously, surprised he never heard about this. 

“Yes!” Harry said with pride.

“We wanted to do what you did, skip a couple years and join the Order-“

“He called us stupid; we are not stupid,” Harry said fervently. 

“So how’d you do it? How’d you manage to convince the professors?” Hermione insisted. 

“It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed,” Draco said cryptically, but the pair exchanged glances. The rumor mill and their deep following in the war told them all about Draco’s parents. They had been Death Eaters in the first Wizarding War. When Voldemort came back, they expected to be greeted happily. Instead he was angry. It was never clear exactly what caused their demise, but word from Death Eaters in Voldemort’s Inner Circle was that the Malfoys held an item that would have allowed Voldemort to return to power sooner. However, they chose to ignore his directions, supposedly because they were not so supportive anymore. Regardless of why, they were both murdered, leaving Draco to his Godfather, Severus Snape. 

“Of course. We’re both orphans as well-“

“God, I wish we could just fight in this war-“

“Then we could prove that we’re worth more than just leftovers from our parents’ untimely demises!” 

“Would you like to walk with me?” Draco asked, motioning for them to follow him outside. 

“We’d love to,” Hermione said, Harry on her right side. 

“While we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice,” Hermione opened her mouth, but he interrupted her, “Talk less.” Harry and Hermione missed a step in their walk in confusion. 

“What?” Harry asked.

“Smile more,” Draco said, looking pointedly at Hermione, who squinted her eyes in disgust. Harry laughed, thinking it was a joke. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Hermione scathingly replied. Harry stared wide-eyed at his friend, realizing Draco’s words were meant to be serious. 

“You want to get ahead, right?” Draco asked, as they walked towards the lake. 

“Yes,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. 

“Fools who run their mouth off wind up dead,” Draco said. As he said this, a pack of three Gryffindors came running onto the lawn, yelling. There were already students spread out across the lawn on the warm spring day. The three Gryffindors appeared to be laughing and running around, throwing playful jinxes at each other. 

“Yo! You know what time it is?” The red haired fourth year yelled to his two friends. The three together yelled together, “Our time!” Harry and Hermione, never having paid much attention to their fellow Gryffindors before, besides the necessary polite words exchanged to get by, now stood in full attention to the spectacle in front of them. 

“I’m Ron Weasley, and I’m ready, overflowing with Gryffindor bravery! Those Death Eaters better watch out. ‘Cuz I’m going to stupefy those bastards til we’re free!” The red-headed yelled to the crowd, shooting the stupefy towards the French quarter-veela who blocked it easily. Ron Weasley, despite being their age, had never given them much cause to pause. He was minimally talented, and his brothers all joined the fight once they became of age. His parents, too, were well known blood traitors who openly supported Dumbledore. It was assumed he would join as well. Well, all his brothers except for Percy Weasley, who ran off to work with the French in obtaining aid, supposedly. 

“Oui, Oui, mon ami, je m’appelle Fleur Delacour,” Fleur gave a curtesy to the onlookers they had drawn their attention to. “I am the part ‘uman Lancelot for zees war! I came out of ‘iding just to master my wand and tell you-know-'o ‘Casse toi!’ Who is ze best? C’est moi!” Hermione giggled, and Harry looked over with confusion. Hermione spent some time on the streets in Paris, forcing her to learn French. She whispered the translation to Harry, who laughed himself, knowing most of the teachers would miss it. Harry also didn’t miss the special look of interest Hermione had for the French girl. Fleur Delacour would have gone into hiding when the Death Eaters took France two years ago. Which means, while she should have been taking her NEWTs,  
instead, Fleur had been placed in sixth year classes when she appeared at the school out of hiding. 

Death Eaters were none too fond of any being not totally wizard. Horrible atrocities had been committee to part-veelas due to their attractive powers. It was even said that some were sold onto the sex market among Death Eaters. Regardless, no one questioned why Fleur had to leave her school and country. When she’d been sorted with the first-years into Gryffindors, the Gryffindors were told by a stern Professor McGonagall to not ask questions. However, Hermione had not missed the rumor going around that Fleur used to have a younger sister. Which of course meant Harry knew as well. 

Fleur sent wordless spell towards Neville Longbottom who dived out of the way instead of blocking it. “Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!” Neville shot back to the girl, who blocked his spells as well.  
Fleur sent wordless spell towards Neville Longbottom who dived out of the way instead of blocking it. “Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!” Neville shot back to the girl, who blocked his spells as well.  
“I am Neville Longbottom! Get up in it, now's the time to fight, to make your mothers proud!" Ron and Fleur cheered for his proclamation. "I may like to dig in the dirt, but the only thing I'll be digging is Death Eater graves!"

“Wooo!” Fleur laughed, sending another spell his way. Neville Longbottom presented some interest lately to Harry and Hermione, although they found his association with the otherwise mediocre Weasley might be a thorn to his growth. However, Harry and Hermione shared a knowing glance. Neville had come into the school a pitiful boy. Ron Weasley had been known to tease him and pressure him into all sorts of trouble their first few years.  
Except it appeared to turn out positively, as Neville found his courage saying no to his best friend. When Ron broke his wand their second year, coming back with a new wand the last year, Neville had apparently been inspired to get a new wand himself going into their fourth year. Without his father's wand, Neville appeared to have awoken his own talents. Meanwhile, the hidden secret of Neville's parents had been found out by Harry and Hermione in their research on Voldemort. It piqued their interest at the time (second year), but he still showed no true talent then. Now, courageous, talented, and clearly for the cause, Harry and Hermione viewed Neville and his friendship to Weasley with intrigue.  
“No more, bro, you'll scare the firsties,” Ron was bent over laughing at Neville’s outcry, “Let’s raise our wands to the Order!” And everyone applauded the end of the scene. The three, with Fleur in the middle with her arms around the other two, sauntered towards the lake, noticing Draco Malfoy on the way.  
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigy of Slytherin?” Ron smirked. It was well known his family held no warm feelings towards the Malfoys, much less Slytherin. 

“Draco Malfoy!” Neville yelled boisterously, clapping a hand to his shoulder. Draco flinched, not by the weight of Neville’s muscular figure, but rather the loudness at which he shouted. 

“Well, why don’t you give us youths some knowledge?” Ron nudged his shoulder into Draco’s, who took a step back away from the Gryffindors. 

“Good luck with fighting. I personally plan to sit it out. We’ll see who lives to old age.” Draco said with his nose raised to them. Fleur and Neville booed. They actually literally booed. 

“Malfoy, the war is here. What are you waiting for?” Ron asked, clearly not confident that Malfoy wasn’t planning to join the Death Eaters. 

“If you stand for nothing, Malfoy,” Harry began.

“Then what will you fall for?” Hermione finished. Ron, Fleur, and Neville stared at the pair as if seeing them for the first time. Admittedly, while Hermione and Harry expressed their wishes to forward their academics, they had up to now, been relatively quiet about their intentions to join the war effort except to their professors. 

“Who are zese kids?” Fleur asked, being new to the school and not being in classes with the fourth years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been prereviewed by my awesome beta, Becca, who helped me make sure it still feels right for the characters and potterverse. I have really enjoyed writing this. Review if you liked! Review if you don't!


	3. My Shot

Fleur had dragged Neville and Ron away, gathering as much information about the pair who had impressed her. Later that night, the three Gryffindors cornered Harry and Hermione. They found a corner. Fleur, having come from war ravaged country already, questioned them with skepticism of their knowledge about the reality of wars. 

Her interest in the pair was not disappointed. The two appeared ready to jump into anything that might allow them to prove their worth. Whether that be a war or fighting politicians, the two youths reiterated their dedication and interest.

“Harry is going to become an Auror, and I am going to join the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Hermione told Fleur several days later as they readied themselves in the morning. The only time when Hermione and Harry separated. Even then, both the female and male Gryffindors had seen the other around the opposing sex’s dorm rooms.

Hermione and Harry easily impressed and amazed the trio as they paid more intention to the pair. They showed a real lack of polish that the three, having grown up in the magical world, had been raised to show. Even Ron, who lived the most on the outskirts, and Neville, whose youthful clumsiness hadn’t entirely subsided, knew the intricacies of the wizarding world’s society. However, every time the pair opened their mouths, the three were confounded by the knowledge they shared. 

“We’re a diamond in the rough,” Harry said to Hermione one day in front of the others. 

“A what?” Ron asked, confused.

“It’s a muggle metaphor. It basically means that while we look rough, we are a treasure beneath the surface,” Hermione explained. Ron, Neville, and Fleur came to trust the pair’s word, no matter the subject, in the last fading months of their fourth year (Fleur’s sixth).

Fleur chose to befriend Ron and Neville for their bravery and loyalty. While she easily got along with every Gryffindor, early in on her friendships, she’d chosen them. They never asked why, but accepted it. Theories circled on whether it was because they didn’t question her path, or because of the slight status they had with their pureblood nature, or because they were purebloods who didn’t act like it. Fleur easily pulled Harry and Hermione into their study sessions and mealtime conversations. Ron and Neville, more hesitantly, followed her lead on every move. 

When Fleur became to listen to Harry and Hermione rather than give her own opinions, they were shocked at the intellectual’s deferment to younger students. Yet, the more they listened, the more they realized their professors’ attention to the pair was entirely warranted. They were genius. They acted and spoke with wisdom older than their fifteen years. 

“You don’t seem like the usual muggle-raised students. You never talk about your past,” Neville mentioned off-handedly one day, testing the waters on the subject. 

“We had rough upbringings.” 

“But, Harry, you’re the boy-who-lived, certainly that meant something?” Ron asked incredulously. Harry frowned in response. 

“Not when you grow up with muggles who hate wizards and think they can beat the magic out of you,” Harry said quietly. Hermione shifted in her seat so their shoulders touched. 

“’ermione, you ‘ave mentioned your parents before, but not much about your childhood,” Fleur pressed.

“I lived on the streets a good portion of my childhood. I learned to manage, just as Harry did,” Hermione said, nonplussed. They said no more, but Fleur knew to read between the lines. She saw a spark that both were flaming in the other. Every interaction between the pair appeared to put renewed encouragement in the other.

There was another aspect of their intelligence and personality which interested the three Gryffindors. Harry and Hermione had revolutionary ideas that none had head the likes of before. 

“The wizarding world runs independently of any other major country in the world. While each muggle country has its own government, their magical populations are much smaller than their muggle ones. Many smaller countries have banded together to form confederations of magical communities. While the magical world has some form of democratic or meritocratic governments, they still appear stagnant in many areas that muggle countries have progressed in,” Hermione explained one day, after her comment about “never learning from the past” to Ron caused outrage. 

“Meanwhile, the wizarding world has people like Voldemort who shit on anyone not pure enough. They track everyone’s blood status relentlessly. Then, Voldemort goes on another killing spree. We aren’t ever going to be free unless there’s a revolution of not only the non-pure bloods but the vast amount of half-bloods as well,” Harry went on.

“Half-bloods make up the majority of the wizarding world, despite the large amount of attention purebloods receive,” Hermione added, “Don’t be shocked when your history books mentions us.”

“We will lay down our lives if it sets us free,” Harry said grimly.

“Eventually, you’ll see our ascendancy,” Hermione grinned, nudging Harry. The others grinned back, preferring the talks of rise then the talks of the death from the pair. The two discussions often became intertwined for the twin-like fourth years. For all their seriousness, they held a consistent joke, which the others were unable to figure out the inside joke. It usually started with some discussion of how they weren’t going to give up their chance to rise, whether that be with war or revolution. Then, in the middle, one of them would say:

“We are just young, scrappy, and hungry like our ideas,” and they would both laugh. Their laughter, rare as it was, infected the others despite their inability to understand the joke. Ron, Neville, and Fleur loved the childish grins that occasionally broke out on their faces. 

However, it wasn’t always about Harry and Hermione’s thoughts and ideas. The trio of Gryffindors also shared with the pair their own ideas, dreams, and hopes. Fleur was the first to passionately share one night as they sat by the fireplace. 

“I dream of life wit’out a ‘ierarchy. The unrest in France will lead to ‘onarchy- ‘ow you say- anarchy! But eet ees wort’ eet to get rid of ‘is stupid ‘ierarchy. I look forward to making ze other side panicky when zey realize zey are fighting with a veela. Even ze purest of bloods ‘ave trouble fighting my powers,” Fleur said, with a large grin. She was ruthless. She held careful control over her powers, having to learnt the hard ways the danger of letting her veela powers run without control. Now, she rarely released her powers at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione saw it once, and all of them struggled to see their friend underneath the spell she cast. She only realized it under Harry and Hermione’s request in the first place. 

Neville was the next to tell them about himself. They sat in Herbology one day, as Neville effortless beat even Hermione and Harry in the class’s grades. 

“I’m the child of Order members who were destroyed in the first war. I’ve been living with my grandmother instead, but I consider Ron and Fleur more family then her. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but she always seemed more concerned with me being as good as my parents. Ron and Fleur just accepted me as I was. I want to join the rebellion to really show my whole family that I am more than just my parent’s clumsy child,” Neville expressed sincerely. Neville sometimes acted boisterous, especially when around his two friends, but Hermione and Harry found a soft-mannered young man when he wasn’t show-boating. Neville clearly was always just trying to make the best decision. He said it was to prove his worth, but Hermione and Harry saw another truth. Neville, underneath it all, wanted to protect his friends and would do anything to do so. 

Ron was the last to open up, and it was only on the train home that he finally did so. They sat squished into a four-person carriage together. Hermione finally asked the question that both her and Harry had been wondering. 

“I understand Fleur and Neville’s interest in the war effort, but besides your family, why fight, Ron? You could easily stay out of it,” She asked without context. Ron reddened slightly at the attention but answered nonetheless.

“We’ll never be truly free until muggles and muggle-borns have the same rights as me and mine. You and me should have the same rights, no matter our parents. For me it’s do or die,” then Ron cracked a smile, “Just wait until I ride in on a broom with the first muggle-born army. I won’t throw away my shot to change the wizarding world’s perspective on muggle-borns.” This enthused all four of the others. They grew louder and louder in their agreements and pronouncements of wanting to fight. The group drew the attention of many of the other students on the train. Specifically, one student came to their car due to their uproar. 

Draco Malfoy poked his head in, already knowing the cause of the noise. With Harry and Hermione added to their group, their loudness only seemed to have echoed all the halls of Hogwarts. Even professors now seemed to whisper of their intensity and dedication to the cause, although none had been invited to join the fight. 

“Oy, Malfoy, come join the discussion, which Death Eater would you go after first?” Ron yelled to the figure in their doorway. 

“Geniuses, lower your voices,” Malfoy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He lowered his own voice. “If you keep out of trouble, you’ll double your choices later on. I’m with you, I am, but the situation is fraught. You need to take your education seriously. If you go off spouting your mouth this early on, you won’t even reach 17 and be able to fight.” Hermione and Harry exchanged glances while the others just glared at Draco. 

“Malfoy, check out what we’ve got on our side-“

“Miss Delacour, all the hero of a Lancelot-“

“It’s not just her veela half that will give her the edge-“

“Weasley, we like him a lot-“

“We will hatch a plot to free all non-purebloods from the dark-“

“Longbottom, well, you’ve met him and that should be enough-“

“What are the odds that the gods put us all in one spot-“

“Squashing conventional thought whether you like it or not-“

“A bunch of revolutionary manumission abolitionists?”

“We’re ready for a position-“

“Just show us a where the Death Eaters are!” At the end of their spiel, Draco scoffed and exited the room. The rest stared at the two again, as though they were Siamese twins at a freak show. 

“Did we say too much?”

“We sometimes get overly excited-“

“Shoot off at the mouth.”

“We never really had a group of friends before…” But their three new friends shut them up with claps on the back and cheers. The two parted ways with the other three at the station. Harry and Hermione worried, unnecessarily, that when they returned to Hogwarts in September, the three will have changed their mind about them. They tried to busy themselves as best they could with recon and causing trouble for the Death Eaters where they could. Hermione wrote up what her and Harry imagined, the world, the politics, the changes. They sent it to the Quibbler where it was published anonymously as Hamilton, after one of their favorite political writers. The summer swooshed by with a gust of wind. 

On the first of September, Hermione and Harry took a carriage early for themselves. They worried in silence together, wondering if their friends from the previous year would abandon them. But in a fury of loudness and hugs, Ron and Neville, then Fleur, joined them in their cart. 

Fleur, being of age now, was allowed to join the Order that year. Late at night, after curfew, those of age who chose to join the Order, attended a meeting to obtain their duties and obtain a lecture breaking down exactly what their joining would mean. Fleur quietly called them all to an empty classroom the following night. She stood before Harry and Hermione.

“Tell me why I should trust you wit’ Order secrets,” Fleur requested with Neville and Ron sitting behind her. 

“We are dedicated to the Order’s cause-“

“We will not stop until Voldemort is dead-“

“We will not stop until all magical creatures are free-“

“We promise we will make you all proud!” Fleur smiled at them, but it was Ron who spoke.

“We really need to get them out there, speaking to people,” Ron said, to no one in particular. 

From then on, Fleur slipped them all the information she had, which was minimal considering she was still only a student. The fifth years could hardly sneak out all that often, but Harry and Hermione were constantly encouraged to say what they thought. When they tried to whisper to each other or to the other three, they were prodded and told to say it for everyone to hear. They soon become known as some of the biggest proponents in Hogwarts for the Order’s war efforts. 

The pair gained some fame in their speeches and Hermione’s continued writings for the Quibbler, of which Harry added ideas to. So much so, Fred and George Weasley decided to impart their Maurader’s map to the pair, who added their own discoveries to it. Ron was outraged at only now finding out about it, but he settled for using it with the pair. Right before the end of their fifth year, Harry and Hermione received news. Bathilda Bagshot had been murdered in her home. It had somehow gotten out that Harry stayed with her. They mourned for weeks leading up to it. Neville and Fleur tried their hardest to cheer the pair up, having both lost people in their own lives. Surprisingly, it was Ron who eventually got them out their rut. 

“Come on! You have to cheer up! When you’re knocked to your knees, the only thing to do is stand up and fight ten times harder. You have leadership skills the rest of us can only dream of! You can’t give up this fight because of one loss, even if it hit close to home. You can motivate so many to fight, not just to fight, but to join our fight. Stop wallowing in your grief and get back in it. I don’t know what your relationship to the old lady was, but I guarantee, the author of so much research would hardly want you to put your talents to waste.” And that was that, Hermione and Harry returned to their previous enthusiastic selves. Their three friends never truly received the full story about the pair’s connection to Bathilda Bagshot, but they understood her to be very important to them. 

The pair kept on their- as Draco Malfoy would call it- suicidal mission. It did not go amiss to Ron, Neville, and Fleur that the pair seemed hardly concerned about death. On the contrary, they seemed to have accepted it as an already accepted part of their future. Their sixth year came with only the change in a loss of Fleur to their group. She was a graduate and a full member of the Order. She could not risk giving them information through mail, so they had to sneak around under Harry’s cloak to gather information the best they could. Although the Order was careful to not talk too much in the building. 

Harry and Hermione appeared to laugh more, play more, all while speaking more, entering their sixth year. When Neville said something about it, they simply replied that they wanted to make this moment last. They were the hungriest of all the students for the battle, with something to prove not to others, but to themselves. They wanted to take a stand, to make their imagined world a reality. 

Underneath their confidence lay an insecurity, though. In corners far away the others, they whispered words of worry. Whether if they won the fight, anything would change. This was the second war, they knew that, and they were uncertain whether it would ever stop. They worried it would always be the pure-bloods, the wizards, against everyone else. Those in the political majority, would they ever relinquish power? They saw so many who appeared just as excited as they did about the action occurring around them. However, they kept reading and writing. What they discovered in those words and lines were truths that if not fixed, would make the blood spilt purposeless. 

One such truth that Hermione and Harry obsessed over: the financial security of the wizarding world. Currently, all of the Ministry of Magic and its departments relied on private donations. Those donations were almost exclusively given by the old, pureblood families. There were no taxes in the wizarding worlds and thus no public funded government. Hermione and Harry knew none of the laws would be changed unless the financial situation was changed. It would be hard to convince people to accept taxes, but it was the only way to get the Ministry out of the hands of the economic elite. 

Hermione and Harry’s “Hamilton” essays on this subject gained a lot of noise in the wizarding world as they rose to renown in Hogwarts. Their sixth year saw the seedlings of their creations. Without realizing it, the pair stopped thinking about today and what renown they obtained right now. Instead, their focus was on what they left behind for the wizarding world and its citizens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know of any typos or thoughts you have!! This has been my guilty pleasure for some time now. Special thanks to Becca for keeping me on track for how to write Neville/Mulligan, since I struggled on my first draft with him.


	4. The Story of Tonight

December of their sixth year passed with horrors passed. The Death Eaters launched an attack on a number of muggle homes and muggle-born homes. The Order had been attempting to slowly to put up major protections around all the muggle-born houses, but when the Ministry fell, their ability to find where muggle-borns lived became near to impossible. They did their best to plant spies in the Ministry to find muggle-borns to invite to Hogwarts, but it was the most dangerous position and hard to get into in the first place. 

So as members died again and again in the attempting to find the records of underage magic by muggle-borns, the Order finally decided they needed to find new methods. So they began setting up experimental magic to track underage magic of their own. It was unreliable at times and not exact. However, it was something. 

The massacre after Christmas hit the Order hard. Not because of its membership, but for the morale of all those who believed in them. More and more muggle-borns were escaping into hiding or crossing into Europe to find new safe places. However, more and more Snatchers kept popping up.

Those in the Order soon found their houses, as safely protected as they were, being watched by Death Eaters. Several Order members found themselves killed right outside the protected zones around their houses. Even a small step outside the protected space proved deadly. 

Many older members were targeted, the ones everyone knew to be part of the Order: Molly Weasley, Arabella Figg, Emmeline Vance, Nymphadora Tonks, and others. It was slow. Molly Weasley was the first they learnt about, killed when her and Mr. Weasley were ambushed as they were trying to put up protective spells around some muggle locations. The Weasley family took it hard, and the four friends joined Ron at the funeral. The only Weasley not to attend was Ron’s older brother Percy, who was still in France supposedly working with the rebels there. Ron always said this with some snark, saying that his brother always was a coward. 

Arabella Figg dug a new wound in Hermione and Harry. Harry attributed his happiness and love of Bathilda Bagshot with Mrs. Figg who connected the two of them. Harry cried for the first time in front of his new friends upon hearing of her death. Ron started to ask him how he knew her, but Hermione shushed him. No one else tried to ask. Hermione and Harry managed to leave school to go to her funeral, attended by almost exclusively by Order members. 

Neville’s family knew Emmeline Vance, and he was solemn for some time. He found solace in Harry and Hermione who sat late in the night one late February evening asking him questions about the woman he grew up. Ron and Fleur, the latter who snuck back with Neville after the memorial, made regular raids for snacks and butterbeer for the kitchens. Halfway through the night, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were crying together. Fleur broke in.

“My sister was kidnapped. We tried everyzing to get ‘er back. We finally found ‘er…” Fleur’s words spilled out, but then choked at the end, “Eet was too late. What zey did to ‘er… Everyzing you ‘ave ‘eard about Deaz Eaters and zeir treatment of Veelas… The ‘ealer we brought ‘er to said s’e was pregnant…” When her words stopped, she was swallowed by an onslaught of arms around her. Fleur allowed herself to cry for the first time. By the end of the night, they were crying from laughter and all sharing stories about their losses. 

Ron talked about his mother and the way she looked after anyone who entered her roof like they were her own child. Harry told of the horrible trips he made to Mrs. Figgs and how she purposefully put him through hell to make sure he could keep going. Hermione spoke of meeting Bathilda Bagshot for the first time (Harry found Bathilda far too difficult to speak of) and the way she quizzed Hermione as though suspicious of the girl. Neville spoke of Aunt Emmie who gave him treats while his real blood uncles tried to shove him out windows, and always told him that it was okay if he turned out to be a squib. Fleur, too, spoke of her younger sister and the way they always teamed together to outwit their parents. The group of friends fell asleep on the couches just as dawn was breaking on that February morning. They blearily went to classes when their peers woke them from their slumber.

The final loss, hitting at the end of February, did not directly affect the group. Fleur knew her on passing through the order, and Ron knew her for similar reasons due to his family. However, there was one with whom it hit hard, and it was not evident right away. 

Harry and Hermione approached the Room of Requirement for some time alone. While they adored their trio of friends, they also still found most comforting to be by themselves. They wished for their comforting study room, but when they opened the door to the Room, they found one of towers of objects. The room of hidden things- they had come across it some time ago when experimenting with the possibilities for the Room of Requirement. They found no matter what they wished to hide, themselves or objects, this room arrived. However, if they varied in how they wanted to hide themselves, say for purposes of long term stay or for a safe place, they might get an entirely different room. 

The pair tip-toed around, trying to figure out who conjured the room. They had never found another soul in the room before. They heard sobs, after a few moments, and they began making their way carefully through the piles of things. At the end of their search, Draco Malfoy sobbed on a couch, a pillow hugged in his arms. 

“Draco,” Hermione said, low and tentatively. Draco jerked up, wiping his face.

“It’s okay,” Harry said as Hermione walked towards him. He remained seated, apparently already given up on fighting.

“Who did you lose?” Hermione inquired as she sat next to him. Harry perched on the arm of the sofa next to Hermione. Draco looked hesitantly between the two. He appeared ready to fight them for a brief moment, before his face fell again. The tears slipped onto his cheeks.

“My cousin, Andy, well most people called her Tonks,” Draco said between sobs. Hermione rested her arm over his shoulders. 

“We read in the paper. Tell us about her.” And Draco did. He talked about seeing her throughout his youth, and how his parents always acted like they hated his uncle. Yet for all the insults, they kept taking him to visit the muggle uncle and his half-blood daughter. Draco spoke of watching muggle television and riding his first broom with the clumsy oaf of his cousin. He spoke of how he still corresponded through letters, even after his parents passed. About how his cousin wanted to take him as her ward but couldn’t because of the dangerous nature of her Auror job. 

When he was done talking, hours had passed. Hermione and Harry, the whole while, kept asking questions and encouraging him to talk. When it was all done, Draco gave them both hugs. After that, while Draco hardly treated them as friends like their trio did, he did exchange passing pleasantries and occasionally joined them, when it was just the two of them, in their studies. Draco found a respect for them that had not been there before, and Hermione and Harry began to understand some of Draco’s tentativeness in becoming close to anyone. 

Not even through their sixth year, the Order had already such heavy hits to its members. The Order was forced to accept students about to come of age, not just those actually of age. All sixth years were invited to join. The four Gryffindors were some of the first to say they were interested. All the sixth years were told the date and time of the meeting, the one normally held for the beginning of the year for seventh years. 

Fleur snuck into the castle once then news was given to the sixth years. Her four friends didn’t even get a chance to send her an owl with the news. She snuck up to get Hermione first, then they both went to the boy’s dorm to get the other three. They gleefully crept down the common room. Fleur pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey and slammed it onto the table between the couches where they sat. The minors quietly cheered.

“Woo wants a drink?” Fleur said, slamming five glasses on the table.

“You cannot pour me a drink fast enough,” Ron said, eyeing the glass she filled gleefully. None of them were particular drinkers. Ron had drunk several times with Fred and George. Neville’s uncles encouraged him to drink whenever they were around, but he never particularly enjoyed it. Harry and Hermione both never tasted a sip of it, despite having plenty of chances in their childhoods. Only Fleur had any experience, being of age.

“This may be the first and only drink we ever have,” Hermione mused, looking at Harry. The other three frowned. 

“Yeah, and when our children tell our story, they’ll tell the story of tonight, when we joined the fight!” Neville took up one glass, raising it up and tossing it up. The others followed. 

“I am so ‘appy you will all be joining ze fight,” Fleur began, taking a swig from the bottle, “It’s been strange to be without you all.” Neville put his arm around her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment before pulling away. 

“We are excited, too. Someone needs to look after Hogwarts best Veela graduate,” Neville grinned. 

“Only Veela graduate,” Hermione murmured into her shot glass. Fleur, Neville, and Ron looked at her.

“Really?” Fleur said pouring Hermione another. 

“Yes. As liberal as England’s Wizarding World likes to pretend to be, it is not equipped to handle growing veelas. Several have started at Hogwarts but have usually left by their third or fourth year when their powers begin to develop. The few veela families who live in the region tend to send their students to Beauxbatons,” Hermione explained. 

“How do you know so much, Hermione?” Ron asked, already sounding a bit tipsy. 

“Because she’s brilliant. She remembers everything! I mean, you’ve read her writings, she’s a genius,” Harry bragged about his best friend. 

“No, I remember things, but you make my words mean something, Harry. Without you helping me with those writings, our Hamilton writings, they would just be pathos-less logos,” Hermione pressed.

“You’re both brilliant. You’re going to rule the world someday,” Ron asserted.

“No, zey will not,” Fleur said seriously. They all stared wide-eyed. Then Fleur cracked a smile, “Zey will lead ze free world into a new age of enli’tenment, no?” 

“Of course!” 

“Imagine a world where no matter who you were, witch, wizard, veela, or any magical creature, you were accepted wholly. A Hogwarts ready to aid in all the special circumstances that each student may go through!”

“Classes for muggle-borns to understand Wizarding culture better, and a class for wizards on muggle society and the technological advancements.”

“Coming of age classes for part-veelas and part-giants and every mixed breed to understanding their unique perspective-“

“And classes the wizards and witches so that they can better understand their peers’ situations!” 

“More classes on muggle sciences so that we can better learn from their advancements to advance our own magic.” 

“Imagine a world where muggles and wizards collaborated more, to make the best world possible.”

“Oh, we could create legislation to work undercover in muggle Hospitals to help heal diseases and disorders that we have long had the magic to heal easily.”

“We could have so much more than a wizard only society. Imagine allowing goblins and house elves wands?”

“We would need to change the government first. All magical creatures should have representation. Aristocracy never helps anyone except the Aristocrats. We need leaders elected by the creatures!”

“We could have proportional representation.” 

“We’d want to at least start with descriptive representation, because otherwise we will only ever have theoretical substantive representation.” 

“Each group could have a number of representatives proportional to their group’s percentage as a whole.”

“We’d have to create drastically new legislature before then.”

“House elves would be their own special case. We would need to study the relationship between house elves and their owners more. Is there some tie that might harm them in assuring they are all free, or is it a systemic Stockholm syndrome effect of years of servitude and slavery?” 

“Though, independent researchers would need to be in charge of those studies. Otherwise, wizards might skew the results in their favor.”

“House elves, regardless, need an over hall in legislation. We need restrictions on punishments they and others can inflict upon them. We need freedom of all house elves, if possible, with strict rules on contracts.”

“We could still allow them to be live-in workers with part of their wages going to pay their master.”

“But you’d need to be careful so that what happened in America with the sharecropping system. I think a strict system of what percentage of their wages could be garnished for room and board.”

“Minimum wage and a welfare system also need to be put in place!” 

“Minimum wages need to be used careful. We can’t allow wizards to raise prices in protest.”

“We don’t necessarily need flat minimum wages. We could enact minimum wage by city, so that each minimum is based on yearly research on living costs in each area.”

“That’d create a difficult vacuum to move from area to area.”

“That reminds me of the Chinese rural versus city issue.”

“What’s that?” 

“There’s horrible disparity in their rural areas compared to their city areas. They have some laws in place to prevent everyone from moving to the cities, but the rural areas are still drastically impoverished. For a country aiming to become completely communistic, it has horrible inequalities.”

“Speaking of inequalities- we need a standard education system in place for wizards and witches before they reach Hogwarts.” Their conversations ebbed and flowed. They went from one rant to the other. No one, the next day, would remember who said what, only about the shared goals they all had in mind. Equality, freedom, and revolution. They kept drinking, talking, and laughing. Near the end of the night, they still talked, blearily, when suddenly Ron stood up with a yell. 

“Raise a glass to freedom. Something Voldemort can never take away, no matter what they tell you,” Ron said, and the others cheered their consent. “And, raise a glass to the four of us!” They clicked their glasses and downed it all, another round quickly being poured another round. Fleur did not miss the nervous glances of Ron and Neville or the solemnity of Hermione and Harry, even in their drunk states. They had avoided talking about the actual war but had stayed on the topic of what comes after. She would not allow their worries to take away from this moment they’d all been waiting for: their chance to fight for their dreams.

“Let us ‘ave anozer round!” Fleur raised her glass again. 

“To the four of us!” Harry yelled, the rest of the shushing them even as they giggled. 

“Tomorrow there will be more of us,” Hermione said sing-songingly. The next day, the five would be found by the rest of their house passed out on the couches. Harry and Hermione curled up together on one. Their heads touched in the middle of the couch, the legs sprawled over the sides, and their hands grasped together in comfort. Neville and Ron had their legs tangled together on the other couch, the opposites of Harry and Hermione. Fleur was on the floor and quickly scurried out in response when a couple seventh years woke her up to tell her that she’d better leave before McGonagall got wind of her being there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a political scientist, so a lot of this is inspired by theories and philosophies of those who study political science.
> 
> If any of you are like, wtf is political science, you are not alone. Most people when I tell them that I study political science, assumed that meant I was going to go to law school.
> 
> While, yes, some people who study political science do that, I've found, in fact, the vast majority, at least in my experience, do not. 
> 
> Political science, briefly stated, is the study of the system of governments and the analysis of political behavior and activity. Political science tends to borrow from a lot of other sciences to study their works. I've met Political Science who use history research methods such as archive analysis, those who use sociological methods to study political thoughts and behaviors of voters, those who use psychology and neuroscience to study the affect of political ads and the prevalence of racism, and I've met those who use mathematical processes to predict election results. 
> 
> All of what we do as political scientists is research-based, peer-reviewed findings that are no less true than your chemists and biologists. It's just a bit harder to predict and solidify facts, because people are chaos. A lot of the theories and beliefs I'm purporting in this story are ones solidly based on scientific evidence in the real world here. :) Racism is real. Sexism is real. Inequality is real. And it is the inspiration for this Hamilton/Harry Potter crossover. 
> 
> If you do not believe in those things, I really don't care because I know otherwise. If you believe that the liberal process for dealing with these things are not the best for this country (the United States) as a larger community or for the individuals involved, then we have a discussion there. :) 
> 
> Anyways, rant over, I felt like I needed to explain where this sudden devolution into politics came from in this fic, and now you know. XD I'm a nerd, and I'm passionate about the science I live by. :)


	5. The Sacred Sisters

There’s nothing pure-blood witches and wizards loved more than going down to Hogsmeade and slumming it during the war. They come down in groups and gawk at the young Order members who dare to talk. Hogsmeade once the war began became one of the places Order members flocked. It was a sess pool of Death Eaters attempting to catch the vagrants as they snuck letters and other goods to non-pure-blood students at Hogwarts, those whose families the Death Eaters are most likely to attack to scare off muggle-borns and mixed-bloods from attending Hogwarts. This only made the Order more prevalent in the area. As such, while Hogsmeade weekends were still allowed, many parents were no longer willing to write the permission slip for their children to go. However, there were still many students for one reason or another who risked the trip, either because as Death Eater students they were safe, as Order members they believed in making a statement, or as Harry and Hermione, they were fearless. However, even those three groups often didn’t risk the potential for battle to break out at Hogsmeade while they were there- a common occurrence. 

Children of the Sacred 28 were amount the groups who could attend Hogsmeade safely but were not allowed. They were too precious to their parents. Three sacred families, however, did not realize their daughters sneak into Hogsmeade to watch all the revolutionaries: the Weasleys, the Lovegoods, and the Greengrasses.

These three families were already well known for various reasons. The Weasleys were some of the biggest blood traitors among the 28. The Lovegoods were eccentric and the writers of the only piece of press which supported the Order and its revolution. The Greengrasses were well-known Death Eaters who disavowed violence in the process of obtaining blood supremacy. 

To add to the notary of these three particular families in the public’s eyes, one of each of their daughters joined a trio called the Sacred Trio. The Sacred Trio were socialites and scholars from the moment they joined forces. They were the center of attention, while still appearing humble, everywhere they went. The families had no idea when they introduced the three girls what they were unleashing upon the world, but no one outside the family would claim it was anything but good. 

The oldest was Luna Lovegood. Only child in her family, she was known for saying things that weren’t real. Not only did she say extraordinary things, but she often left people wondering whether what she said was real or insanity. Moreso, she was known for being the most intelligent but also the best at controlling a social situation for one reason or another. Luna was the leader, and the other two girls, while hardly only followers, trusted Luna’s lead in most adventures. 

The middle was Ginny Weasley. Youngest child of six brothers and only girl of the red haired gang, Ginny knew how to hold her own while learning the intricacies of knowing when to defer. She craved Luna’s freedom after always being looked after, and she loved watching the scenes the other girl created with her quirkiness. Ginny, the kind one, the honest one, ran after what she wanted. Yet, she was kind and would defer at any point to her sisters, the other parts to her trio.

The youngest was Astoria Greengrass. The youngest of two girls, Astoria came from a family unlike Luna and Ginny. She was constantly told that her blood was better than others. It was through Ginny and Luna that she began to question that. Her family never questioned her association with the two other girls, because they were part of the Sacred families. They thought that even a blood traitor would be better than a muggle born. Astoria was the beauty. She found freedom with Ginny and Luna, yet all the same, she always yearned to be as free as they appeared. 

Together, they were considered sisters. They were a force to be reckoned with. Their pre-Hogwarts years found them inseparable, them bouncing from house to house. Their entrance into Hogwarts separated them only by House. The trio still spent all their time with each other, only separating for curfew, and even then they sometimes found a comfortable room to spend the night in as opposed to separating. With Luna in Ravenclaw, Ginny in Gryffindor, and Astoria in Slytherin, they were unstoppable when it came to navigating the social life at the school. 

They made promises to one another- that they would stay out of the war if they could. Not to save themselves but so that the other two of the trio might never suffer the loss of one. This was an easier promise for Astoria who was expected to join the Death Eaters. The girls made other promises, that if one married wealthy, she would support the other two. They were married to one another, this trio, dedicated to protecting their trio. 

That said, by their fifth year, they wanted a taste of the war and the men involved in it. Their parents would never find out about their adventure to Hogsmeade, their signatures forged on the permission slips. Astoria was the one who happened to mention it, having heard Pansy Parkinson talk about the trip. The girls quickly found the permission slips they had unsigned. 

Astoria, regretted her decision to suggest the trip to the pair immediately, whispered about going back as they traveled down to Hogsmeade with the rest of the students. She feared her parents or older sister finding out about her going, or about a fight breaking out and one of her sisters getting hurt. It was unnecessary, as both girls tried to point out, since all the Hogsmeade visitors were given a breakdown of what to do if a fight broke out. Her two older sisters won out by using her need for freedom against her. 

“You’re free to go, Ash,” Ginny told her friend, “We won’t blame you for doing what your family wants.” Astoria didn’t say another peep. 

Finally, the three girls reached the grounds none of them had ever seen, having been too young when the war started. The place bustled with movement despite shops being shut down and Death Eaters walking on every corner. Students excitedly and loudly talked. Grown witches and wizards varied between walking quickly with their head down to those loitering around talking to their neighbors. The girls, with shoulders pressed together, excitedly stared around. Well, two of them were excited, the other one apprehensive.

“We should get back soon. There’s a lot of people out. Any one of them could recognize us and tell our parents,” Astoria said, nervously glancing around to make sure no one noticed them. Luna and Ginny exchanged looks. 

“Our parents won’t find out, there’s no reason for them to ever know. We aren’t drawing attention to ourselves. Everyone is too distracted by the bagavata eggs,” Luna assured her, locking her arm in with Astoria’s. 

“Like I said, you’re free to go,” Ginny said softly, with such care that Astoria only felt guilt at the thought.

“But, look around,” Luna said. When Astoria only looked at the floor, Luna grabbed her chin and forced her eyes upward. “Look around. The revolution’s happening in Hogsmeade. It’s caught like no warstache monster.”

“It’s bad enough our families want to go to war,” Astoria said as she was dragged forward. 

“People shouting in the streets,” Ginny said dreamily. She lived in chaos all her life; she yearned for the chaos of freedom. 

“It’s bad enough there’ll be endless violence,” Astoria said wistfully. 

“New ideas in the air,” Luna breathed, “Just look around!” Those two words were Luna’s favorite. Whenever she said something that seemed crazy, she uttered them, reminding everyone around that the world was more than what was just in front of them at the moment. 

“Lu, remind me what we are looking for,” Ginny giggled as they passed some young men upon entering the Three Broomsticks.

“Gin, I’m looking for a mind at work,” Luna said. When Ginny and Astoria had started talking about boys, Luna began talking about her “mind at work.” After some pressing, she explained one third year night:

“I want someone who can look past the possible and see the impossible as reality,” Luna spoke with her dreamy voice. 

Now as they stood in a room crowded with revolutionaries, Ginny began to understand what Luna wanted. Luna always talked about the impossible creatures and magic, but maybe that wasn’t what she was talking about in the impossible. Luna believed dearly that all creatures should be treated with care. She believed dearly in the dangers of blood supremacy. Someone caught sight of the pure blood girls, though did not place their age as an issue. Instead, he assumed they were older than he thought, being in his upper level classes caused him some misperception of his peers’ ages sometimes. 

“Woah! There’s nothing like a winter with some butterbeer, someone in a rush next to someone looking pretty,” Draco said as he stepped up next to the three girls. Astoria pulled back, not wanting to be recognized. Ginny smiled pleasantly and casually stepped in front of Astoria, knowing how the younger girl fretted. Luna, meanwhile, frowned. “Excuse me, miss, I know it’s not nice to stare, but your perfume smells like your daddy’s got old money. Why are you stepping into war territory with your fancy cloaks? Are you searching for a militant who can teach you ideals?” And he winked. Luna’s nose went up. They were used to being flirted with. Teenage boys flocked around them since they were thirteen. As part of the Sacred 28, they would marry only the best, or at least that’s what wizards assumed. 

“Malfoy, you ooze with afsky,” Luna turned her as though she smelt something horrible. 

“Ah, so you know me. I’m a pureblood, beautiful, you can check me,” Draco reached up to tuck her long blonde hair behind her ear. She jerked away. 

“I’ve been reading ‘The Second Sex’ by Simone de Beauvoir, so some men say I’m intense or I’m insane. You want a revolution? I want a revelation, so listen to my declaration,” Luna began to open her mouth, but Astoria and Ginny knew her declaration by heart. 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all wizards are created equal.” A line from the Quibbler written by Percy Weasley. He started writing shortly after leaving for France. No one, but an educated few, such as Luna, Harry, and Hermione, caught that the phrase came from muggle origins. His writings were wrought with the subtle use of language which only empowered male wizards, even as it admonished blood supremacists for their attacks on muggle borns. His family applauded his writings, but Ginny had been forced to concede to Luna that he was really not the champion they were all looking for. 

Luna Lovegood encountered muggle writings on accident. She was hunting what she called magijata sightings in a muggle part of town with her father when they stumbled into a muggle bookstore. Luna noticed a sign indicating “feminist books.” After some discussion with the shopkeeper, who she told Ginny and Astoria was what muggles called a “hippie,” Luna bought an armful of the books the shopkeeper said was a must. This was in their second year. Now, Luna was well versed in feminism and educated Ginny and Astoria along the way. 

Feminism was a foreign concept in the wizarding world. Around the 60s, the wizarding world shut off more than ever, due to the aggravation and protests occurring in the muggle streets. Muggle politics didn’t affect them enough for them to need to be worried about it. Only muggle-borns ever felt the affect, and as has been true for centuries, purebloods and those born into the wizarding world would show only annoyance with a muggle-borns’ insistence to keep up with muggle culture.

Women in the wizarding world were expected to stay at home and raise and school the children, since the wizarding world did not provide elementary schools for wizard child. It was either send them to muggle schools or teach them yourself. Due to the negativity surrounding muggle anything, almost all families opted to homeschool. Witches were largely given two options marry early and stay home, or stay single forever. 

While staying single was not viewed quite as negatively as in the muggle culture, it was still considered the lesser option. There had never been women in places of power, such as the Minister of Magic or the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was always a man who seemed to take that place, even when it was a Deputy Headmistress next in line when an old headmaster passed. Women were often paid less and had to work much harder to raise up among the ranks in the Wizarding World. Without Feminism, the witches lacked the means to gain equal pay for equal work or to protest not gaining certain positions based on their sex.

Femininity held just as inferior place in wizarding society as in muggle society. The women in the highest places were almost always either masculinized or hyper-feminized. Robes eliminated some gender discrimination in the forms of beautification, but girls were still often raised to spend much more time on beautification techniques. Studies showed young witches in Hogwarts spent more time on beautification then their studies the older they got. 

Sexuality had its own special place. Pure-blood families pressed for abstinence only education. Not because of religion, but rather to prevent a mixing of the bloods while they were at Hogwarts. Muggle parents assumed their students would gain similar sexual education as at their muggle schools. Mixed blood families did not often have enough sway to press the matter. Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey often taught spells to young men and women in secret. Abortion was another foreign word, nullification was the term used by most witches and wizards. Spells in the wizarding world had long been perfected to assure blood purity. 

Hogwarts professors had to treat it with care. They could not risk teaching students sexual education, but when they found out students were taking part in sexual activities, they encouraged them to talk to Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey was safe from repercussions due to how many pure blood witches and wizards she had performed the nullification spells on. It was too dangerous for any of them to lash out at her. 

The rules for what could occur in marriage were strictly in favor of the man. Rape and abuse was lower than in muggle society outside of marriage. Inside of marriage, the only thing a wizard was able to be prosecuted for was for death. However, the myriad of spells available for torture and inflecting pain left many witches with inflections only seen in the mind. While the psychological equivalent did not exist in the wizarding world, enough muggle-borns assimilated into wizarding society to bring witches to muggle psychology. 

Witches, no matter their blood status, now shared something equivalent to a secret society of psychologists which they saw to help them through their marriages and issues. Since divorce did not exist in the wizarding world, the best scenario often meant the witches finding a new place to live away from their abusive husbands with people willing and able to understand their psychological needs. 

Needless to say, the wizarding world was not a great place for witches. Luna found herself enthralled with studying the nature of feminism in the wizarding world. She already begun a book on it. She included studies on other magical creatures and the gender dynamics within them. It encompassed several thousands of pages by their fifth year and was growing. 

“And when I meet Percy Weasley, I’m going to compel him to include women and creatures in the sequel!” Then all three young women took off with a swish of their hair, leaving Draco Malfoy dumbfounded. Those three were the talk of many of the young men both in Hogwarts and out of it. It was assumed once they came of age that many men would flock to gain one of them. With one of them came the status of three pureblood families. Draco was hardly a blood supremacist, but he believed in tradition and no one understood wizarding tradition as well as purebloods. 

The three girls shared in Luna’s female empowerment but wanted drastically different things for their futures. Luna wanted to become a writer and researcher, a champion for the rights of the political minorities. Marriage was an unlikelihood seeing as she refused anyone less than her equal, and she thought quite highly of herself. Ginny just wanted to be safe and happy. She didn’t need fame or fortune. She wanted an ordinary life. Whether that involved a marriage or not didn’t really matter, although she was interested in relationships with the opposite sex. Astoria had only one dream; it motivated her every move. She wanted freedom from her parents and from the limitations of pure blood supremacy. If that required marriage, then it required marriage but she knew if she did that it would be one servitude for another. 

“Look around, look around,” Ginny giggled to Luna, who gave a grin at the teasing, “At how lucky we are to be alive right now!” 

“We are lucky, aren’t we?” Astoria said, and both her sisters hugged her. Astoria couldn’t help but share in the giddiness of her friends. While she tended to be more realistic then the other two, she did want to believe that this war would not end badly. Luna had her head in the clouds on the best of days. Ginny openly acknowledged death and tragedy, but still believed wholeheartedly the Order would win. Astoria, felt uncertain. 

“History is happening in Hogsmeade,” Luna told them. 

“And we just so happen to be in the greatest school in the world!” Ginny laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on all these chapters. I've had them written for awhile, but I've had so little time to write, that I haven't gotten around to actually posting what I've written... Because I'd rather be writing.


	6. The Student Refuted

The evening following the Hogsmeade trip marked the recruitment meeting for the underage witches and wizards at Hogwarts. All the houses were represented in seats in the Great Hall that night, waiting for the head of the Order of the Phoenix to show. To their disappoint, the Headmaster of Hogwarts was away on a mission. Instead, Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, took the front of the room with her fellow heads of Houses flanking her sides. 

More than just the students were sitting among the tables in the Great Hall. Many order members not currently on missions were filling in the seats, taking in the places at their old tables. Unsurprisingly, the Gryffindor table was practically full. This was common practice so the new members could start getting to know some of the older members, so they had better ideas who they could trust. 

“Attention, everyone,” Professor McGonagall clapped her hands and everyone quieted down. The new recruits couldn’t help but notice that no one appeared surprised about the missing Albus Dumbledore. “As many of you already are aware, the reason for dropping the age requirement on Order members is due to our loss in numbers in recent months. We wanted to prevent this, but without more witches and wizards fighting, this war will only crumble beneath us.” 

“I want to make it clear that no one is obligated to join. No repercussions will occur if any one chooses not to join the Order. In fact, I highly encourage against it. There will be danger, and not just for each one of you. Your family, your loved ones, they will all be targeted if your membership in the Order of the Phoenix becomes known. You have more of a chance at dying then you do of living if you join right now. You may be tortured; your loved ones may be tortured.”

“If you have any doubts, if you don’t think you’ll be able to hold up under pressure, if you think you might want to have a family before the war is done, this is not the choice you should be making. This is not a game. You will not get honor for dying like a martyr. This is only up to your choice.”

“The Order of the Phoenix and its members have invited you all here to see if any of you are interested. The Order stands for a fight against the blood supremacy which Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters are fighting for. We believe in equality for all witches and wizards and for a chance at a world without blood purity lies corrupting our government. We fight against the cruelty and murder committed by Lord Voldemort and his followers on a daily basis.”

“If you believe in these goals as well, we invite you to join us. What you will specifically do for our cause may not be what you want to do. Missions and duties are delegated based on the individual’s skills. You will be working with whoever’s skills will complement yours, and you won’t always like the people you are going on missions with. You have to listen no matter what.”

“There will be training based on the missions we believe will be best for you. There will be training for the things we will believe you may encounter as well as those we believe you should never encounter, but we want to be safe. If you cannot pass the training, you may not ever see battle. We cannot risk someone else dying because of one person’s mistakes. We are not that desperate for fighters.”

“At the end of this meeting, we will have every new recruit walk through that door,” McGonagall pointed towards the door to her left, “One by one you will tell us your decision. This is to protect you for at least a little longer. However, we will not be able to protect you forever. Those in this room have already been discovered and marked as Order members. You can see how many of them there are.”

“If you decided to join us despite all my warnings, you will sign a document of enlistment. Then, you will be given a second meeting time so you can receive your duties and training schedule. I encourage you all to talk to your Heads of Houses and other Order members here. Get their perspective before making your decision. In my stead, please talk to any of the Gryffindors currently members. I will see you all through the door.” Then she walked out. 

Ron moved to talk to his father and brothers, all of whom were sitting at the Gryffindor table. It was not so much to discuss whether he wanted to join as much as to be near his family for a short while. The death of his mother meant that he had sorely missed his family. He knew they would leave once he walked through that door.

Neville looked around for Fleur, but quickly found her to not be there. She’d been labelled as “still hidden” since her involvement with Order was still hidden. Instead, he went and spoke with Remus Lupin as he waited for Ron to be ready to go through the room. 

Harry and Hermione meanwhile, immediately went through. Madam Pomfrey who stood at the door attempted to separate them. They scoffed at her. Having known them for six years now, she hesitated before shrugging her shoulders and letting them through. If anyone ever though the two wouldn’t do the same thing, they never spent any time around the pair. McGonagall didn’t appear surprised to see the pair together. She simply waited for their answer.

“We are joining, of course,” Harry said, holding out his hand for the pen. McGonagall handed it to him, he signed, and he handed it to Hermione and she signed as well. They were giving the date of their secret meeting with McGonagall after curfew the next night.

“I will see you both then,” McGonagall said, and they went on through.

The next night they gained their training plans and their duties. They would be ground fighters and be in charge of many covert missions. 

“It is both due to your talents and your unique situation with one another,” McGonagall explained, “You two work better than most soldiers who have been fighting together for longer than you’ve been alive. You will make valuable covert missions soldiers.” They nodded and took their training plans. 

Their plans largely consisted of building on their already extensive magic abilities. It would mean that finally they would receive the higher tutoring they’d been striving for. They were encouraged to continue their schooling so they could take their NEWTs. However, as they would be receiving special training it was not altogether necessary.

So they finally gained their right to fight, and they were very eager to start. However, they still needed to finish their sixth year. That meant dealing with other students including future Death Eaters. 

Wartime Hogwarts meant a peculiar positioning about the war existed within the halls. Rules were quickly put in place to protect students’ rights to speech. Since the professors and Headmaster didn’t want to ostracize students and give Death Eaters an excuse to send their children elsewhere, they swore to never stop students from speaking their beliefs unless it could be seen as fighting words. 

Professors, while all Order members, were banned from speaking about the Order and its goals to any student unless they were also an Order member. The professors were forced to show an incredible amount of self-control to prevent their own violence upon Death Eater children who thought it was their duty to terrorize the muggle-borns in the school. 

However, they also did not stop when children of Order members or other muggle-borns rose up to fight against the Death Eater children. Violence was prevented, but words were allowed to be flung as long as it was not disruptive to the learning environment. It was a precarious peace that held at Hogwarts.

Luckily, all in all, except for a few students such as Harry, Hermione, and their friends, most students kept their opinions to themselves. For the most part at least. There was always a few exceptions. 

“Listen here! My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I present “Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Order of the Phoenix!” Pansy stood in the Great Hall during breakfast that morning. She held a scroll in her hand. Many of the Order members were missing from the head table, including Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and most others. They were in a meeting apart from the Great Hall. It was the day following Harry and Hermione’s secret meeting with McGonagall, which Pansy attended but failed to decide to join the Order. The students eating slowed only a little but quieted a lot. They were used to Harry and Hermione and their group of Gryffindor friends making noise in the yard or between classrooms, but a Slytherin speaking out was a new occurrence to which they were shocked. 

The teachers still available to assure law and order remained in the school looked on with frowns, but it was always agreed that they would only speak to willing recruitments about the Order’s beliefs and goals. Free sharing of thoughts between the students was a policy they gritted their teeth about but allowed it under the Headmaster’s orders. 

“Don’t listen to the rabble who scream revolution! They don’t have your interests at heart!” Pansy yelled out, not looking up but reading from the scroll instead. The teachers frowned more but focused all their attention on the food they dissected it on their plates.

“Merlin, don’t let this continue. You can tear her apart,” Neville whispered to Harry and Hermione. 

“Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution. Don’t let them lead you astray with their false promises and their unrealistic goals. This Order does not speak for me, no longer how long I’m in Hogwarts,” Pansy declared with feeling. Harry and Hermione stood up. Draco had been about to leave the hall, not interested in hearing Pansy talk (he heard it enough in the Slytherin common room). However, just as he turned to pass the Gryffindor table to head out the doors, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Draco internally groaned. He knew that Gryffindor table would not likely storm out, and there were two in particular that were likely to make a scene. He slowly turned his head. 

His suspicions and concerns confirmed immediately- Harry and Hermione were standing at their seats, not yet saying anything. No one noticed them yet, as every eyes still remained on Pansy. Enough students were trickling slowly out that two students standing up hadn’t mattered. He swiftly, not quite running, but his legs moving as fast as possible without drawing attention to him. He reached Harry and Hermione. They glanced at him, glanced at each other, then back to Pansy. 

“Let her be. It doesn’t matter what she says,” Draco whispered to them both. They paid him no heed. 

“They’re playing a dangerous game. I can only hope that the Dark Lord shows you his mercy. It’s a shame, really a shame, the way this school has succumbed to continued propaganda by traitors….” Pansy said, trailing off as she noticed the two individuals who now stood on the Gryffindor table. She, and everyone else, failed to notice Draco Malfoy with his head in his hands in exasperation. 

“Yo! She’d have you all unravel at the sound of screams, but the revolution is coming! The have-nots are going to win this!” The Gryffindor yelled. The whole school sucked in their breaths. They’d heard Harry and Hermione speak on their politics, but they’d never truly been faced with opposition before.

“You don’t have to continue to listen to this. They’re only out for their own self-interests,” Pansy yelled, her face was red with rage. 

“It’s hard to listen to you with a straight face,” the lion snapped back. Snickers filled the hall at the saucy lions and their glowers. 

“This fighting only brings death and destruction of our people. Their beliefs are not mine, and they don’t have to be yours!” 

“Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us; honestly, you shouldn’t even talk. And what about the Christmas massacre? Look at the cost of not fighting, and all that we’ve lost!” Then the other: “And you talk about the Order?” The pair spared no corner of the room from their gaze, despite being in the middle of the room. Even the Slytherins, usually escaping from any declarations made by the pair, stayed in their seats. Several faces appeared in the doorway, either those who entered late or those who left but heard the debate taking part. The pairs constant sweeping eye contact drastically contrasted Pansy’s refusal to look up from her script. 

“The Order is not bringing us the kind of order I want in the wizarding world!”

“My cat speaks more eloquently than you!” 

“They are playing games with wizard and witch lives!” 

“But strangely, your mange is the same,” Laughs erupted in the Great Hall.

“I hope the Dark Lord gives you his favorite kind of mercy,” Pansy threatened. Everyone heard the rumors that he often murdered those he offered mercy from. The teachers appeared ready to step in at this point. They had to ignore fights between the sides only so far as no harm came. Threats were to be taken seriously. However, they waited instead to see how the pair handled the threat. 

“Is he in Hogwarts?” The teachers sat back in their seats, impressed. Meanwhile, Pansy found their response audacious. 

“Oh, you’re a shame to wizards everywhere!” 

“FOR THE REVOLUTION!” The words filled the hall with power as two fists raised in the air. 

“For shame, you two.” But her words were drowned out by the other Gryffindors:

“FOR THE REVOLUTION!” The teachers smiled to each other. Gryffindors often caused trouble with their bravery, but you would never question their loyalty. 

“Don’t-“

“If you repeat yourself again I’m going to-“ 

“Scream.” Both sides said in unison. 

“Honestly, look at me, please don’t read!” As Hermione and Harry ran up to the front, one yelling the other swiping the scroll out of Pansy’s hands. 

“N- not your interests,” Pansy stuttered, not seeing them coming. 

“Don’t modulate the topic then not debate with us!” and then the other, “Why should a tiny sect in the magical world regulate diversity?” 

“Harry-Hermione- Please!” Draco yelled, having run up behind them, grabbing the scroll from them to hand back to Pansy. 

“Malfoy, we’d rather be divisive than indecisive, drop the niceties!” Cried the Gryffindors. At this point, the Gryffindors were yelling encouragements, half of the Hufflepuffs were joining them while the other half looked overwhelmed, Ravenclaw was split between those calmly eating their breakfast and those loudly debating at their own table. Slytherins were altogether looking on edge and angry, whether that was for Pansy making their house look even more unfriendly to the Order or at Harry and Hermione for abusing her that way. In the mayhem, one of the professors slipped out to get Albus Dumbledore, who sent his Deputy Headmistress to resolve peace once again. Minerva, with some stern threats and glares, sent all the students to their classes for the day. 

The students didn’t stop talking about the bravery exhibited by not only Pansy at speaking out but at the two Gryffindors for taking her on. It was largely assumed that the two Gryffindors were more persuasive, even by those who disliked the sentiments they spread. However, it was also largely agreed that they lacked the calm-headedness needed to become great leaders in the Order. Word still spread of the two loud-mouthed new recruits fight for the Order and its beliefs. 

It traveled so far as to reach Lord Voldemort’s ears. He, at first dismissed it, scolding the Death Eater who brought the gossip to him. They were only children, nothing for him to be concerned about. However, Death Eaters kept talking about it. Not only that, but Death Eaters reported witches and wizards talking about it all over England. Suddenly, Lord Voldemort heard it so often that his only option became to address the clear dissent against his rule they were spreading. 

So he set to work. Voldemort, first and foremost, put them on his most wanted list. Then he sketched out a letter, which he assured all witches and wizards not in hiding received. It was the first time Lord Voldemort ever addressed individuals instead of the Order or other groups of dissenters. The letter reached every witch and wizard in the end, one way or another, due to its incredible uniqueness. It was a message from the Dark Lord himself, a response to the statements made by those under the pen-name “Hamilton.”


End file.
